


Bedroom pas de deux

by Kirjava3456airbender



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Azula Is younger than aang lol, Azula isn't evil, But he is, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Serious Injuries, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, aang is a fashion disaster, and also genderqueer, i love my sons, just kinda mean, no beta we die like men, they're both dancers!, this might not appear in the fic, zuko is 18 and aang is 17
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirjava3456airbender/pseuds/Kirjava3456airbender
Summary: A very late work for Zukaang week 2020!In which Zuko comfronts what he knows about gender roles in dance, falls in like with a prodigy, nearly gets his hand broken and wonders whether his first passion is worth fighting for.
Relationships: Aang/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 69
Collections: Zukaang Week 2020





	1. Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is so late but better late than never huh? Hope you guys enjoy!!
> 
> Title taken from possibly one of my favorite pas de deux ever, bedroom pas de deux from Mayerling. Tbh the title has nothing to do with the rest of the fic except ballet I guess? Just thought it sounded good, do yourself a favor and go watch the royal ballet version with sarah lamb and steven mcrae on youtube!!!

“C’mon Azula, it’s just the lift and then we’re done!”

“We’re done? _I_ have been done for hours! You’re the one that can’t get this done and I’m the one getting the bruises.”

“Fine, this is all my fault, so help me do it so we can finally go home.”

“You don’t get to complain, Zuko! If it was only me I’d be at home right now. And you know what? I’m done here, I have my part down and it’s not my fault that you’re untalented!”

“Azula…”

“No, Zuko, I don’t care anymore. It’s not _my_ fault you don’t have what it takes.”

She storms out of the practice room in a whirlwind, barely taking the time to take off her pointe shoes and shove her feet into a pair of birkenstocks before she’s slamming the door shut in a way that rattles the whole room. She doesn’t even stretch.

The worst part is that she’s right, Zuko has always been the weak link between the two of them, and ever since they started doing partnerwork together, it’s become way more obvious. Azula got her part in their duet in the first two hours of practice, but he still stumbles and he can’t get the lift right at all. By all accounts, Zuko should be the perfect dance partner, he never tries to get the spotlight and he can lift an impressive amount of weight.

But he always hesitates.

It baffles their instructors, who tell them that usually the liftee is the one terrified out of their mind while the lifter is confident. Zuko doesn’t know what to tell them, it’s true that he’s the tiniest bit scared of Azula and her utter perfection. She has been called a prodigy since she stepped into her first class while Zuko has fallen to the side as “Azula’s-brother-who’s-kinda-good-at-dancing-too”. The fact that there’s a two year gap between them and yet they’re in the same grade speaks volumes. Everyone knows that Azula will start auditioning for the big companies soon, meanwhile Zuko’s already eighteen and stuck in the competition circuit with no wins under his belt.

Frustrated he runs a hand through his sweaty hair and starts stretching, without Azula there’s no way to really practice the lift he’s still stuck on. He’s groaning himself into the splits when the door slams open and a teeny tiny cyclone of color walks in.

It’s a boy that Zuko has never seen (he would have remembered for sure), wearing an orange tank top, yellow harem pants, and (of all things) knee high converse shoes. He’s short with a pretty button nose and what’s essentially a long mohawk pulled into a bun on the top of his head, dyed a vibrant shade of blue. He’s humming to music blasting from the bulky headphones he’s wearing.

He throws his duffel to the side and starts warming up and Zuko has absolutely no idea what to do. He clears his throat but the boy doesn’t hear him, and in his unending awkwardness Zuko stays where he is, watching the boy roll his neck and stretch out his shoulders. He has a neat row of silver piercings down his left ear.

Only a couple of minutes pass but it feels like an eternity for Zuko, who wonders if he should get up and tap the boy on the shoulder or something. Before he can do anything though, the boy makes the decision for him as he turns around, catches Zuko’s eye and promptly jumps three feet into the air with a screech, it’s actually kind of impressive how high both him and his voice go.

“What are you doing here?” There’s not a single note of accusation in his tone, only curiosity and Zuko’s kind of surprised at the lack of bitchiness, most people at the academy are kind of protective of their practice room time.

“Um, this is my practice room? What are _you_ doing here?”

“No way dude, I booked this room.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve still got until...” Zuko grabs his phone to peek at the time and immediately turns bright red. “Two hours ago, holy shit I definitely lost track of time, sorry about that.” He can’t believe it’s already two am, no wonder Azula was so mad. “I’ll leave, sorry again.” He starts gathering up his stuff before the other boy stops him, eyes wide.

“Hey no, you didn’t finish stretching, right? It’s okay, we can share the room for a while, yeah? My name’s Aang.” He extends a small hand for Zuko to shake and the latter is horrifyingly aware of how sweaty his palm is.

“Zuko.”

“Cool!” And just like that Aang skips away and over to the speakers to plug in his phone, Zuko can’t comprehend how one can be so nonchalant about human interaction.

And Zuko takes his sweet time as he watches Aang dance, his warm ups are the usual basics but there’s something about the way he goes through them that’s sort of captivating, no one should have this amount of energy and laser focus at two am.

Soon enough Zuko should be packing up his stuff but instead of doing that and going home to take a hot bath and finally rest, he just… doesn’t. To this day he wouldn’t be able to tell you why he stays that day in the practice room, with every muscle aching, sitting on the cold floor, simply watching Aang. The boy has long ago traded his converse for a pair of slippers and runs through barre exercises with a fluidity Zuko would never have been able to achieve.

After the barre the boy sits on the floor, winded and taking heavy gulps of his water bottle, before opening his duffle bag and pulling out a pair of pointe shoes. Zuko’s eyes go wide as he watches the Aang tie the ribbons around his ankle with practiced ease. There’s a strange feeling in his throat and chest, sort of an itchiness, he has never seen a boy wear pointe shoes. He’s vaguely aware that some newer, more contemporary ballets have started to implement men wearing pointe shoes for some roles, but it had always been nothing but a concept. He vaguely remembers his mother telling him that “boys don’t dance on their tippy toes, darling” he had been inconsolable at the time, and Azula had teased him mercilessly. 

This vision of a boy with his strange clothes and incredibly bright colors standing at the barre _in pointe shoes_ is completely alien to him. It’s _exciting_. For a second he wonders if Aang tastes like cinammon sugar, sweet but with a spicy edge of the unknown.

And Aang goes through variation after variation, he becomes Odette and Giselle and Juliette and to Zuko he’s the prettiest dancer he’s ever seen, even Azula the prodigy. 

It’s four am when Aang stops, panting and flushed. it’s like he snaps out of a trance.

“Oh hey! You’re still here!”

“I’ve never seen anyone dance like you,” Aang’s eyes flash with apprehension, like he’s expecting Zuko to berate him or something. “It was beautiful.” Aang’s grin is like the sun breaking through clouds, a little too large for his face.

“Thank you.” They stand in comfortable silence for a few moments as Aang puts on his ridiculous shoes, before he looks at the time on his phone.

“Oh man, I should have been home hours ago, I have to go! See you around, yeah?”

He slips on his headphones and runs out of the room, and as Zuko stands there all alone, he has the feeling that something momentous has happened to him.


	2. Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so y'all are going to kill me, whoops. So I know the actual prompt for day 2 of zukaang week is "Autumn" however when the prompts for the week were tossed around at first, the word "fall" was used and this chapter was formulated. So yeah, this doesn't fit day two of zukaang week, sorry!! I may write a drabble for "autumn" but please don't hold me to that haha. 
> 
> Please be aware that this fic does talk about injuries, the kind that end careers sometimes, take care of yourself and please don't read if that triggers you, you know your limits! injuries won't be described graphically tho.
> 
> Please feel free to imagine your favorite pas de deux for this chapter but if you want a visual for the lift, i pictured the lift in the cheshire cat pas de deux!

Zuko's life has always revolved around the stage. He’s always working on a new variation for a showcase or a competition, every crunch and push up, every endlessly repeated barre exercise has always been meant to get him onto the stage. He dreams of the too hot lights and the black wave of the public, the slick wood under his feet and the almost too loud hush of people watching with bated breath.

And yet.

And yet, ever since he met _him_ , the stage has taken a backseat to his new obsession, being at the same practice room at two am. It’s taken a toll on him, he can tell, especially since Azula won’t stop commenting on his dark circles and the sloppiness in his moves. Zuko has never been a night owl, contrary to what his slightly emo-ish looks indicate he actually really likes the daylight. A long time ago his mom used to tease him and call him her “little cat” because of the way he would curl up under the windows to soak in the sunlight while he slept.

Point is, he usually doesn’t like to go to bed after one am, but now he’s constantly running on fumes and a couple hours of sleep only to watch Aang dance.

It actually took him a whole week to go back to that practice room for the first time, first of all because he didn’t even _know_ if the boy would be there again and secondly because he didn’t want to look like a total creep. But still, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Aang danced, with utter joy and abandonment, happiness infused in the curves of his arms, the delicate lines of his calves when he did a developpé, the arch of his back in every cambré.

So he went back; after practice with his sister he stayed in the practice room, doing his best to practice the stupid lift without her there, until two am. And soon enough, Aang was there too.

“Hey! It’s you again!”

“Uh, yeah, Zuko here,” he chuckled awkwardly, knowing he was blushing and hating it, damn his face. And then he said “Sorry, I guess I lost track of time again.” you know, like a liar.

“Oh cool! I mean not cool that you’re here so late, you must be tired, I’d be tired if I were you. But I’m glad you’re here! You’re really nice!” Zuko just stared, dumbfounded, this kid was an exclamation point personified.

“Thank you?” Shit, he definitely didn’t mean for that to come out like a question, he cleared his throat. “I mean, thank you. You’re really nice too.” _Way nicer than me_ , and there it was. The second reason he had wanted to find Aang again. He’s like a ray of sunshine, and as previously mentioned, Zuko really likes the sun.

“Thank you! Well if you want to stay again you’re welcome to! Unless you want to go to sleep at a normal time.” And then Aang winked because he was just that kind of person. Zuko felt like his ears would fall off from how hot they were.

“Yeah, I’d really like that.”

After that it becomes a routine. Zuko trains with his sister until twelve am, then fucks around until two am and then watches Aang dance for another two hours. It goes on like that for weeks, meanwhile Azula keeps getting bruised up and Zuko’s frustration keeps increasing.

Now, here’s the thing, as much as Zuko wishes he could talk to Aang, starting conversations isn’t his strong suit and Aang may be the sweetest person he has met ever, but he also comes in and out of the practice room at supersonic speeds and doesn’t hang around to chat. There are a hundred things Zuko wants to ask the boy, like why does he train at two am and why is he so awake while doing it, when did he start dancing en pointe or maybe even why did he dye his hair blue. Instead he just watches him dance every night, in silence.

So all in all their interactions are pretty limited to saying hello and then Aang throwing him a hasty goodbye when he leaves. (Zuko is choosing to ignore that part of the routine is also Aang complimenting him and throwing him a wink then and again.)

This might explain why it takes Zuko a solid thirty seconds to answer when Aang doesn’t run out of the room and actually _talks_ to him.

“Hey, Zuko? Are you okay dude?”

“Uh, yeah, totally! What do you mean?” And Aang tilts his head like a bird and his knees go a tiny bit weak.

“You look tired? And kind of worried? I don’t want to pry or anything but if you need a friend I’m here, yeah?”

“We’re friends?”

“Of course! You’re nice and pretty and I like you a lot! Unless you don’t want to be?” Maybe Zuko should stop comparing Aang to animals but he looks exactly like a puppy and Zuko feels something clench in his chest.

“No! I mean, yes! Yes, we’re friends.” That rewards him with another one of those too big grins.

“Cool! Then, as your friend, if there’s anything worrying you, please tell me!” Zuko chews on his lip for a moment. See, because of the aforementioned difficulty with human interaction, he isn’t very used to unloading his troubles on other people. On the other hand, the lift thing has been bugging him for weeks and Azula’s constant nagging has him feeling like his blood is boiling in his veins.

“I’m fine! I really am, I’m just worried about a lift I haven’t been able to do for a pas de deux.” At this, Aang perks up.

“Oh! Then maybe I can help you! I mean, if you ever want to practice with me, you’re welcome to.”

“Y-yeah! That would be fantastic!”

“Great! I'll give you my contact info and we’ll set up a time and place. I’d offer that we start practicing right now but you seem kind of tired.” There’s a teasing edge to Aang’s usual smile and Zuko flushes, and here he’d been thinking that he’d been hiding his tiredness well.

“Sounds awesome.” He hands him his phone and Aang inputs his number slowly, with a single finger, like a middle aged mom.

“Sorry I’m bad at technology, hopefully I got it right.” 

On Zuko’s screen a neat row of numbers stares up at him, under the name “Aang!!! (from dance ⁽⁽◝( •௰• )◜⁾⁾), he smiles.

“Yeah, you got it right.”

After that day, since Zuko is significantly better at written communication, they starts interacting a lot more. He learns that Aang is an awfully slow texter because he’s bad at typing and yet he makes the effort to punctuate almost every sentence with a kaomoji. The blue haired boy sends him a good morning message every day, sometimes including pictures of a disgustingly healthy breakfast. Zuko’s camera roll is filled with pictures of random dogs and kermit memes. And he loves it, he really does, but he also wishes he could bring himself to ask all the questions he wants to ask, he’s still too shy.

Finally, they decide to practice on a Thursday afternoon, at their usual place and then go get boba a couple of blocks from the academy. Of course, it’s not a date, not really, but Zuko still feels so giddy even Azula remarks on his dopey smile with a sneer.

It’s… really fun, they goof around while warming up and make fun of the teachers they share while at the barre, they compete on how many fouettes they can do at a time (Zuko wins, surprisingly, with a whopping 27) and they giggle through their allegros over who can jump higher (Aang wins that one, no surprise there.)

Finally, they start on the pas de deux and Zuko feels awkward and jittery but infinitely more comfortable that he has ever felt when dancing with his sister.

They go through the dance a few times and Zuko is again entranced by how well Aang embodies the character, he’s only been practicing for a few days but he looks like a professional dancer ready to go on stage.

Finally, Aang is running towards him, jumping into his arms and Zuko lifts him above his head. The music fades into the background and Zuko doesn’t even feel the strain of his arms, he only sees Aang’s grey eyes wide with excitement.

“Zuko! You’ve got it! You’ve got the lift!” And even while suspended in the air and screaming at the top of his lungs, Aang’s form is _perfect_ , his legs are straight and turned out, his feet perfectly pointed and Aang’s utter perfection slams into Zuko like a freight train. He sees a flash of his father’s proud eyes, looking at his sister, never him, his mother’s excited voice: “Your sister’s a prodigy, Zuko! Isn’t that great?”, the taunting curl to Azula’s smile and his own voice inside his head “You’ll never be perfect.” 

He suddenly feels sick, he doesn’t have the right to dance with Aang, he who could never get to his level. 

Nausea rises through his throat and he almost sees it in slow motion, his arms giving up and Aang falling to the floor.

The pop is like a gunshot.

Aang's scream of pain tastes like shattering glass .


	3. Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now that we're back to the real prompts, we're getting into the angsty stuff. So, i know you guys have been loving aang's personality in this fic and that makes me super happy!! however in this chapter he's a bit different because of said angsty stuff, i hope you'll stick with me despite it and rest assured that this fic will absolutely have a happy ending. With that said, I hope you enjoy the chapter uwu

In her whole life, Azula has only woken up later than Zuko enough times to count on a single hand. And yet there he is sitting on his bed, staring at nothing and looking mildly traumatized (Zuko never looks good whenever he wakes up earlier than seven am but the dark circles under his eyes and his clenched firsts are maybe the slightest bit worrying.)

“Well isn’t this a surprise, what’s got you up so early Zuzu? Are you that excited for practice today?” He turns his head towards her very slowly.

“I’m not going today.” Now _that_ worries her, untalented as her big brother may be, he’s no slacker, and the teachers are usually the ones sending him home when they see he’s too sick to train. She doesn’t think he’s ever seen him skip out of his own volition. Now, if Azula were a good sister maybe she’d check if he has a fever or even ask him if he’s okay, but she’s not so instead what comes out of her mouth in what's half-jab and half-worry is:

“What? You can’t afford to take a day off! We’ll never get this piece on stage at this rate!” He flinches and something in her chest stings but she only frowns harder.

“I don’t care, I’m not going back to the academy. Ever. Maybe you’ll get a competent duet partner now.” And that? That makes her angry.

“I don’t want a different partner, Zuko. We’ve spent twelve years dancing together and I’m not going to throw all that stage chemistry away just because of a stupid lift!” He sinks his fingers into his hair and curls in on himself, growling. He looks like something fragile yet dangerous, like a wounded animal.

“It’s more than just the lift. It’s about everything! You were right, Azula! I don’t have any talent and all I do is… is destroy and break everyone around me. I don’t deserve to dance.” Azula’s not quite sure how much of this is real and how much is Zuko’s usual jokey melodrama but he looks _brittle_ and she’s speechless.

“Hey,” Azula racks her brain, trying to imitate the distant memories of her mother comforting her, or the slightly more recent ones of her pressing her ear against the door while her mother comforted Zuko. “You might not be the best dancer around, but you’re my brother and that’s gotta count for something, right? You’re actually pretty good sometimes and I need you to be my partner.” He curls tighter into himself.

“No you don’t. I’ll just ruin everything like-” His breath hitches and the end of the sentence turns into a half-sob.

“Like what? What happened Zuko.”

“I was practicing with someone else.” She tries to ignore the sharp, hot taste of betrayal in her gut. Jealousy curls in her throat. “And I dropped them. They got hurt.”

“So what? Is she that much of pussy that she can’t deal with a couple of bruises? She’ll never make it in the industry.”

“It’s a torn Achilles tendon.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Well, I mean, obviously she wasn’t doing it right and that’s why you dropped her, I’m sure. You were probably too good for her anyway. So moving forward you’ll just have to keep dancing with me only and then- ” In a second he goes from kicked puppy to something all claws and anger.

“Shut up! It doesn’t matter what you think I should do because I’m not dancing anymore, you already think I’m useless anyway so why even bother? I don’t care who you want as a partner, not only because you’re an unlovable bitch but because I don’t want to do it, not ever again. So _please_ , get the fuck away from me.” Whatever goodwill and pity she had felt before goes up in smoke.

“You know what? Fine! Rot away in here for all I care, you’re exactly the disappointment dad always said you were. I _will_ find a better partner, it won’t even be hard!”

She slams the door on her way out and then, very quietly, she starts to sob.

\------------------

Aang stares at his phone screen, his own face looking back at him. He looks _tired_.

He feels tired too.

He should probably call a friend, like Gyatso asked him to before leaving, Katara and Sokka would be there as soon as he called. 

Actually, he should call Zuko, reassure him that he’s okay and that it wasn’t his fault. The problem is that… he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t feel like dealing with Katara’s worrying or Sokka trying to relieve the tension with jokes, he doesn’t want to comfort Zuko.

Aang feels awfully empty.

An Achilles tendon rupture.

It’s the stuff of every dancer’s nightmares, the kind of injury that ruins careers and even the dancers that come back from it are never the same. The screen lights up with a text from Toph ‘you coming twinkle toes?’, oh yeah, she was supposed to help him with his elbow flares today. He thumbs open the messaging app and sends off a quick ‘no, sorry ;-;’ before opening the “cute Zuko frim dance (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*” chat. He stares at their last convo, feeling numb, his own ‘Gah! I’m so excited!! This is gonna b so much fun!! o(〃＾▽＾〃)o’ and Zuko’s shy ‘i’m excited too’.

He sighs and lets the phone fall and bounce on the bed.

It’s the 20th of june today, the start of summer and in his weirdly hazy state he only remembers because of the reminder he had set on his phone. Aang loves summer, the heat of the sun and the humidity turning Katara’s head extra curly, surfing with Sokka and Suki, visiting the sunflower fields with his friends and drinking slushies with Toph to see who gets a brain freeze faster.

Instead he’ll be stuck at home for weeks and right now, he’s in a hospital room getting prepped for surgery. Here there’s only electric lighting, no windows. His phone’s ringing cuts through the fog in his head and he scrambles to grab it, simultaneously hoping and dreading that it’ll be Zuko. It’s Toph and he doesn’t answer, he should really call Zuko.

He vaguely remembers the other boy crying and blubbering out apologies, but it’s barely anything more than the wisps of memory. More than anything he remembers the sound of the tear and the white hot flash of utter pain, and then nothing, he’d been numb from the hip down to his toes. Paramedics asking him question, helping him onto the ambulance, the cry of a siren, a voice in his head whispering “you’re in shock”, too quiet to care about.

His heart beating too loudly and Fear like he’s never felt before.

An Achilles tendon rupture; he’s never going to dance professionally again.

There’s a knock at the door but he doesn’t answer, choosing to close his eyes instead, pretending to be asleep, it’s the second time in his life when he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone. The door opens anyway and Aang tries to guess who it is but he’s no Toph, he can’t recognize anyone through their footsteps. The person doesn’t try to wake him up or anything, just stands there, Aang can feel their eyes on his face.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re asleep.” It’s Zuko. Of course it is. “I wouldn’t know what to say if you were awake, only that I’m sorry. I wonder if you know talented you are, how much I loved watching you dance. And now I’ve ruined it, huh? I ruin everything. So, I’m sorry. I’ll come back later, okay?” Zuko walks out of the room and Aang finally feels like he’s able to breathe. He hates himself, because he shouldn't have pretended to be asleep, he should have hugged Zuko and reassured him that it’s okay, he just can’t. Because it’s not okay and he doesn’t know if it will be ever again.

It’s summer and instead of feeling the heat and the sun on his skin he just feels like his entire world is crumbling.

The days pass and Aang figures Gyatso must have called his friends when he realized he wouldn’t do it himself because they start to visit, both at the hospital and now that he’s been discharged, at home. They try to pretend that everything’s completely normal but it's hard when they keep looking at him with pity and Aang feels like his throat constricts when he tries to form more than one word sentences and he doesn’t want to go outside. They try to cajole him into their usual activities but he doesn’t budge and the slushies they leave on his bedside table melt.

Zuko also visited while he was still at the hospital, but Aang pretended to be asleep every time just so he wouldn’t start sobbing, he doesn’t want to make Zuko feel any worse than he already does. Now that he’s at home Zuko doesn’t visit (obviously), but he texts, all the time. Constant hellos and how are you doings. Aang deactivates his read receipts and when he gets bored of crying every time he sees a notification he stuffs his phone into his junk drawer and tries to forget about it.

It takes him a week and two days before he cracks and opens the messaging app again, his group chats are all decorated with little red numbers in the hundreds but he ignores them, instead zeroing in on Zuko’s last message, sent eight hours ago. ‘hey, hope you’re doing okay.’ And Aang is a weak, weak man, with a weakness for gold eyes and delightfully sweet boys and despite the way his chest _hurts_ at the thought of seeing Zuko again, he sends a message back. ‘you shud come see me’ and then his address, it’s the shortest message he can possibly send but he doesn’t want to chicken out.

Zuko doesn’t reply and Aang feels oddly relieved but even sadder than usual until he hears the doorbell ring only forty five minutes later.

“It’s open!” He yells, because getting out of bed is awkward and painful and he wants to give himself a few moments to breathe before seeing him. He’s a little bit upset that Zuko doesn’t have his usual tiny smile when he comes into his room but it makes sense, Aang hasn’t smiled much lately either.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Even though only Zuko has climbed an entire set of stairs, they both sound breathless.

“How are you?” Aang had promised himself he was going to lie, but he can’t do it, not when Zuko is staring at him with all his feelings painted on his face.

“Not good. Really bad actually.” Zuko’s face crumples but there’s no surprise in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh c’mon, you know you really shouldn't be. Falls happen all the time in dance, it’s not your fault.” And it's the truth, isn't it? Much as he wants to blame the other boy, he can't. Zuko opens his mouth to disagree but seems to think better of it and doesn’t say anything. 

“C’mon, come sit with me." He pats the bed. "What have you been up to lately? I’m bored out of my mind.”

And so Zuko tells him everything, slowly and awkwardly at first but when Aang gives him an encouraging look, he gets more into it. He describes his days, telling him how he’s been getting into baking lately and that he went hiking with his old friend Mai from out of town. He talks and he talks and never mentions ballet practice and Aang doesn’t want to admit how grateful he is for that. He feels like an exposed nerve, but Zuko’s presence is soothing.

He only stops talking when it’s much later and the light coming in through the window turns into a dark orange, startling Zuko out of his description of the stray cat he found yesterday, he grimaces and Aang laughs a little.

“You should go before it’s dark, Zuko. Don't worry, next time I won’t take a week before I text you back, yeah?” It was more than a week but Zuko doesn’t mention it.

“I’ll hold you to that, and oh! I almost forgot! I brought you something!” He blushes when he drops something heavy and awkwardly wrapped on his lap and runs out of the room before Aang can open it, yelling out a goodbye.

Aang unwraps it slowly, carefully peeling off the sticky tape.

It’s a sunflower.

For the first time in weeks Aang smiles wide and he carefully puts the flowerpot on the windowsill.

It’s like his own little piece of summer, right there in his room.


	4. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter fought me a little, i actually wanted to finish it earlier but for the sake of the prompts I decided to continue it, hope it still read decently! please enjoy!

It’s been almost a month since he quit dancing and he’s simultaneously never felt better and worse. There’s something quite nice about giving up and throwing in the towel, after years of working his ass off trying to prove the unprovable (that he’s good enough), it’s pretty cool to rid himself of that burden. But then again, there’s also the constant gut twisting blind panic he feels at the thought of his dad finding out, thankfully his dad is rarely home nowadays so it’s fine but he’s constantly dreading it. There’s also Azula’s constant glaring, this isn’t the longest they’ve gone without talking to each other but it’s the first time they haven’t been constantly interacting with each other in dance class and it feels _damning_.

There’s also the fact that he misses dancing desperately.

He wakes up and inevitably reaches for a duffel that isn’t there because he’s crammed it into the closet, he stops himself from eating ice-cream because of that new costume fitting before remembering there won’t ever be new costumes. He choreographs every single song in his playlist and has to stop his legs and arms from moving along. He’s constantly restless, fidgeting in pirouettes and rond-de-jambes. And he feels the longing like a physical ache in his chest.

Maybe he’s not as okay as he would like to believe.

But he also gets to see Aang nearly every day, he meets his friends and although Katara and him have a bit of a frenemy thing going on because of their competitive streak and her protective attitude over Aang, he quite likes them, they’re nice and they never mock or even mention his stutter and awkwardness.

So yeah, maybe he’s on the edge of a mental breakdown but he hasn’t had it yet and in the meantime he’s going to enjoy his newfound freetime. It also helps that Aang never brings up the topic of dance, possibly because he’s intimidated by the rehabilitation process. He had cried the day they put the boot on him and cleared him for walking. Big heaving sobs with plenty of tears and snot mixed in. Zuko wanted to ask why he was crying exactly but he didn’t feel like he had the right to.

Aang’s pretty good at distracting him, whether it's with his constant texting or by inviting him to his house to hang out and play videogames. Zuko itches to tell him that he has more time to hang out now that he's not dancing but he’s afraid of what Aang will think.

The point is that Aang's pretty good at distracting him from his worries, right now, for example, Aang is distracting him with pure undiluted anxiety.

It started a week ago, when Aang discovered that it was about to be his birthday and starting acting cagey. When Zuko asks him where he is or what he’s doing through text he evades the question and the other day Sokka started texting him (pretty weird in and of itself, Zuko doesn’t remember giving him his number.) weird questions like ‘what’s your favorite type of cake?’ or ‘if you could own anything in the world (under fifty bucks) what would it be?”

Zuko’s kinda scared that Aang is going to throw him a surprise birthday party.

When they were little Azula and Zuko used to throw joint birthday parties, both because their dad couldn’t be bothered to pay for two parties and because children usually don’t come to a summer birthday party, let alone two and Zuko and Azula had always shared their friends. Sometimes he really misses the kid version of Azula, who would introduce him to her friends so he wouldn’t be alone in the playground. Anyway, the point is that he still remembers how overwhelming those small get-togethers in the scorching heat of summer had been, the noise of the bouncy castles and the screams of children hopped up on sugar, their parents only getting a single gift for whichever sibling had been better behaved during the year (it was always Azula).

Needless to say, Zuko doesn’t like birthday parties.

He doesn’t even know who Aang could invite to a birthday party for him, Mai is in a cruise with her parents (she texts him daily to complain about them) and Azula would throw a fit if Ty Lee went to a party for him when they’re fighting. Don’t get him wrong, Zuko likes Aang’s friends but they’re still strangers to him, _loud_ strangers, and the idea of all of them in a room, with their attention focused on _him_ makes him break into a cold sweat.

So when he opens the door to an annoyed looking Katara on his birthday, he wants to shut the door in her face. He doesn’t, of course, but he really wants to.

“Hey, Katara, what are you doing here?”

“Hi Zuko, happy birthday. I’m here to pick you up.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Pick… me up?” She fiddles with her phone in impatience, popping a bubble of gum.

“Yeah, Sokka was going to do it but the idiot forgot he had a track meet, so now I’m supposed to pick you up, take you to where you need to go and then go to his meet and bring him his gear. So if you could hurry up a bit, that’d be great.” He relaxes a bit when he notices that she’s mostly annoyed at her brother and not him but he’s still uneasy.

“Um, where are you supposed to take me though?” She smirks a little bit.

“That’s a surprise, obviously. Now come on, I really have to go.”

Ah, so it _is_ a surprise party. He really wishes he could say no and go back inside again, spend his birthday in bed with netflix on his laptop. But he imagines Aang’s excitement and bright puppy smile and because he’s kind of whipped, he climbs into Katara’s beat up van. The ride there is spent in comfortable silence, with quiet hip hop in the background and Zuko chewing on his lip nervously, if Katara and Sokka are going to be busy he wonders who’ll be at this party.

She drops him off in front of Aang’s tiny house, not even getting out of the truck before she’s speeding off, her scowl predicting a scolding for her brother. Zuko stands at the door for way more time than he thinks is socially acceptable, trying to convince himself to just turn around and walk home, but he can’t bring himself to disappoint Aang like that.

So he walks in and when he discovers the lights are off, he sheepishly turns them on, already expecting the chorus of voices shouting: ‘surprise!’

Except there’s only one voice.

He blinks, but the image doesn’t change. The whole place is decked out with streamers a banner and a cake on the table, but only Aang is in the room, his loud laugh filling the room with light.

“Holy moly, your face! It worked didn’t it? You thought I was gonna throw you a party!” To say Zuko is confused is a little bit of an understatement.

“Well, to be honest, yeah. What’s going on?” Aang walks closer to him and stands on his toes to ruffle his hair.

“Oh please, I know better than that, handsome. I know you’re not exactly a people person, so I thought we could have a mini-party, just you and I.” It’s perfect and Zuko almost tears up, instead he smiles as much as he can.

“I love it, thanks Aang.” And he does mean it, normally he’s not a fan of surprises but today he’s happy.

“No problem, now come on, it’s ice-cream cake and it’s been out for a while so we should probably hurry.”

Zuko has to suffer through Aang’s horrifyingly off-key version of the happy birthday song before they start eating the cake without grabbing any plates, just spoons. They eat until half the cake is gone and Zuko feels so full he could probably puke but his cheeks hurt from smiling. Outside, it starts to rain and Aang looks at him with sunlight in his eyes.

“Hey, wanna do something fun?” Zuko only shrugs but Aang can tell it’s a yes from his smile so he guides him into the kitchen, putting the rest of the cake in the freezer before he starts to wrap his boot in saran wrap.

“Aang? What are you doing?”

“C’mon, we’re going dancing in the rain and I don’t want to get this thing wet. You should probably take off your shoes.”

He grabs him by the hand and both of their palms are a bit sweaty, and it’s okay, it’s so okay it hurts a bit. Outside, the garden is already muddy and Zuko cringes at the feeling on his toes. There’s no music but Aang starts humming a song Zuko doesn’t know but sounds familiar, like something he might have heard from his mother’s mouth, at night, already half asleep.

By dancing in the rain, Aang didn’t really mean dancing, instead they run around, splashing in puddles and twirling around each other. They find a frog and they jump around imitating it, their knees get stained bright green and brown and they stick their tongues out to catch the rain.

When the rain starts to turn into a storm, they run into the house, giggling like children, throwing themselves on the carpet because Zuko doesn’t like sitting on couches or chairs and Aang indulges him. Aang looks like a wet dog, with his blue hair plastered to the side of his face, a stain of chocolate sauce under his eye and mud up to his knees. 

Zuko wants to kiss him.

“I want to kiss you.” It slips out without his permission, almost like he’s drunk on happiness or Aang’s dimples. He blushes and immediately slaps his dirt covered hands over his mouth, feeling the sharp, metallic taste of panic on the roof of his mouth. Aang takes his hands in his with delicate fingers, he’s smiling.

“Then what are you waiting for?” 

Zuko decides to be brave.

He cups Aang’s cheek with a hand and leans in. The kiss is hungry, desperate and tastes like rainwater and a little bit of grit, he can feel Aang’s smile against his lips. They break away with flushed cheeks, breathing hard and he runs a thumb over Aang’s cheekbone.

“Let me take you on a date.”

“Okay.” 

And that’s it, it’s probably the hardest, yet easiest thing Zuko has done in his life, to ask Aang out, and it’s over in a second, he feels warm. They kiss again, this time more slowly, laying on the carpet that's definitely getting dirty but Zuko doesn’t care, he just wants to see how Aang will look with bruised lips. 

He’s not sure for how long they kiss but he feels like he could fall asleep like this, kissing Aang slowly, pressed tight against each other. They only stop when Aang murmurs that they should probably shower and change clothes before they get a cold. Of course, Zuko blushes so violently he almost passes out and Aang presses his face against his chest while he laughs.

“Not together, you dummy. You can shower first.”

He presses a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt into his arms before shoving him into the bathroom, still quietly chuckling. The sweatpants are a bit tight but they’re probably the only black item of clothing Aang owns and the t-shirt is bright colored but the fabric is soft and the color red is sufficiently emo for Zuko to wear without compromising his _aesthetic_. He’s comfy like this and there’s a fluttering in his stomach when he imagines wearing Aang’s clothing for other reasons.

When he trades places with Aang he lies on the younger’s bed, letting his eyes roam around the room, taking in Aang’s personality splashed all over it. Polaroids of his friends on every possible surface and a blue-toned mural painted by Katara, Pointe shoes hanging from every door handle that make his heart stutter with guilt, his sunflower by the window.

Somehow, he doesn’t feel like an outsider here.

Aang bursts into the room in a cloud of warm steam, wearing oversized sweatpants and a tank top that exposes pretty collarbones that Zuko wants to suck hickeys into. 

“Let’s make a pillow fort!”

They make it as cozy as possible, hanging sheets from the bedframe and filling it with pillows stolen from around the house, stringing fairy lights around them so their faces are illuminated by soft golden light. The night is dark outside of their fort. They cuddle for a long while, in comfortable silence until Aang clears his throat.

“Zuko, can I tell you something?” His voice is very small and Zuko wishes he could see his face but Aang’s lips are pressed against his neck.

“Of course.”

“I don’t think… No, I’m sure. I’m… Not always a boy. Pleasedon’thateme!” Zuko peers down at Aang, lifting his chin so they can look at each other.

“Hey, hey I don’t hate you. Just please explain this to me? Do you mean that you’re a girl?” Aang shakes his head a little, his still scared expression looking awfully wrong on his (her? their?) face.

“Not really. Sometimes I’m a boy, every once in a while I feel like a girl, but sometimes, most times actually, I’m just… not? I don't feel like either gender, I just feel like, me?… I don’t know.” A tear slips from the corner of his eye and Zuko feels his heart sieze.

“It’s okay, I think I get it. So what are your pronouns then, beautiful?” He’s never this bold, usually it’s Aang who casually compliments him, but he would do anything to erase the hurt look off his face.

“Um, it changes daily, right now I’m feeling like they, them. Is that okay?” Zuko kisses them, as softly as possibly can.

“Why wouldn’t it be? If anything I feel awful that I’ve been misgendering you all day.”

“I don’t know. I thought you were gay.”

“I’m bi, actually, but even if I wasn’t I’m definitely Aang-sexual.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Aang lets out a little wet chuckle.

“I know this can be a bit confusing, you can ask anything if you want.”

“So how does it work, should I ask for your pronouns every day?”

“No that’s okay I can tell you myself.” He relishes in the fact that Aang’s voice sounds less strained, more like themself.

“So, um, I don’t want to be insensitive, but the dancing en pointe thing. Was that a girl thing or…?” He trails off, immediately embarrassed for even asking, but Aang doesn’t look upset when they shrug.

“Not really. I never looked to dancing en pointe as something feminine, it was just beauty and raw strength. I remember begging my teacher to let me go en pointe for days, because I wanted to dance with the rest of the kids in my class, I never even thought about the fact that they were all girls. It does hurt, you know, dancing en pointe, but they were some of the happiest days of my life, it was a feeling like nothing else. Like you’re dancing on air.” As they speak, their voice turns soft and dreamy, a bittersweet smile on their face.

“Why do you keep talking about it like it’s in the past? It’s not like you won’t be able to dance en pointe again.” Aang shrugs again, looking resigned.

“Isn’t it? You hear all these stories of recovery but they’re all from professionals. It’s the amateurs who don’t recover that you don’t hear from.” Zuko frowns.

“You’re no amateur.”

“I mean, I’m not exactly a beginner but that doesn’t mean I’m good enough to-” Zuko cuts them off.

“Wait no, stop. Are you seriously telling me you don’t know how immensely good you are?” Aang shakes their head, screwing their eyes shut.

“I thought I knew but I… One of the first things you learn when you start partner-work is how to fall so you don’t get injured, and if I can’t even do that tiny thing right then how can I believe that I’ll be able to recover from this?” They shake their injured leg and wince in pain.

“Because you’re an amazing dancer who just happened to make a tiny mistake! Every single move I’ve seen you perform has been perfect, you dance like an absolute pro! But there’s more than that, you have this… this spark! You are exceptional!” Aang blushes, burrowing their face into his chest.

“You’re really passionate about this, huh?”

“It’s the reason I came back to that practice room. You have something special Aang, and I can’t imagine a world without you dancing in it.” Belatedly, he realizes they’re sobbing, silent sobs wracking their frame.

“But what if I can’t? What if I put in all this effort and I still fail and I can never dance again? I don’t know what I would do if everyone was watching my recovery process, expecting me to go back to being this amazing dancer and instead I crashed and burned!” Zuko hugs them as tight as he can.

“Then I’ll be by your side. Aang, if you fall I’ll help you get up. If you’re scared of expectations you don’t have to tell anyone but Aang, you can’t just give up. You can’t do that to yourself.”

“I’m scared.” Their voice is tiny.

“I know, and I wish I could do this for you. But I can’t, only you can and we both know you’ll regret it if you don’t even try.” It’s like a dam breaks, as Aang’s sobs grow loud and almost violent, but Zuko just shushes them, slowly rocking them. He stares at the blinking lights around them, while Aang fists at his shirt and cries until they have no more tears, their breath coming out ragged and painful.

“I’m scared,” they repeat. “But with you by my side, I think I’d like to try.”

Zuko kisses them. 

Try.

It’s all any of us can do, isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tldr: Zuko is a bit of a hypocrite and I can't do slow-burns uwu


	5. smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate myself and i hate this chapter *dabs in 2020*

Things with Zuko are… easy. Unexpectedly so. See, Aang is an easy-going person, that doesn’t mean their life is _easy_. Aang used to spend nearly every waking hour dancing, making a little hoard out of dance styles, or studying because Gyatso insisted that they go to university after high school, as a safety net in case the dancing thing didn’t work out (and looking down at their leg there’s a bittersweet tug at their chest, Gyatso is _always_ right.) 

After the injury, Aang spent a lot of their time _grieving_. Their leg, of course, and their career and their absolute, gut-wrenching _love_ for dance. But now that their days were empty they also had time to think and remember the grief they had buried under his eternal busyness. 

They miss his parents like they haven’t in a long, long time.

They barely remember them now, just the brush of their mother’s hand against his cheek, their father’s eternally musical voice. Usually, Aang doesn’t cry, they pride themself on pushing through every hurt, every frustration with a smile, but after their injury it seemed for a few weeks as if they couldn’t stop from breaking down every other day. They wonder what their parents would think about them, about their love of ballet, their injury, their crush on Zuko, their _gender_. It’s like as soon as the tendon snapped in their heel, something else broke and spilled open inside their chest.

So lately things have been hard. Well, no. That’s a lie, things have been hard for a long, long time. Lately things have been harder. So as soon as they get together, Aang throws themself into their relationship.

Zuko is an oasis.

After they came out to him, any anxiety they had felt about dating and liking the other dancer had been pushed to the back of their mind and Aang could finally breathe. Zuko is respite, a balm on their soul, utterly sweet yet opinionated and a fantastic kisser.

When they’re in Aang’s bed, sweaty from the heat, legs tangled up and kissing slow and deep, it’s like Aang’s made out of air. Everything goes pink and soft and Aang thinks they could do this forever, just lay there and breathe in each other.

Of course there’s things that they don’t talk about and Aang may be selfish for not pushing it or bringing it up themself but they feel better when they don’t think about the injury or the constant hurt in their chest or the new pointe shoes in his duffel bag that they don’t know will ever be broken in. They know that they should support Zuko’s career but they like the easiness they’ve got going on, no matter how fragile it is.

Together they go get boba but never near the academy and they go to the park to stare at the ducks (“but we can’t feed them, Zuko! It’s bad for them!”) and apparently geese really like to chase their boyfriend. And most nights Aang opens up discord and stares at Ty Lee’s contact. They’d met her a few years ago, in a contortion class and while they weren’t friends-friends, they kept a steady communication of cute memes and videos of adorable animals. They still hadn’t told Zuko that they knew her, because they wanted to surprise him.

They take a deep breath. Yes, even the mere thought of watching a ballet presentation ache like nothing else but they wanted to be a good partner. Exhale. They can do this! Totally! They text Ty Lee.

“hi!!!!!!!” She responds instantly, as per usual.

“aang ! how are you bby ?”

“i’m great uwu!! u?”

“im good !!! going out for pizza with a couple of friends tn, wanna tag along ?” They smile, this is why they love her, Ty Lee has a heart too big for her and the enthusiasm to match.

“nah, i’ve got plans already ≧◠◡◠≦ I wanted to ask you, you’re friends with azula right?? zuko’s sister?”

“yes, she’s my best friend !!!! y ?”

“i was wondering if you knew when and where her next competition was Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)??”

“yee ofc !!! i’ll send you the deets” No questions asked, in true Ty Lee fashion. They kind of wish they had taken her up on that pizza offer, it feels like years since they’ve seen her. Though knowing her she’ll be at the competition, she’s just supportive like that.

The day of the said competition (the first of the season) comes hurtling towards them much faster than expected and they constantly feel bile at the back of their throat at the thought of going. ‘You’re being dramatic” they tell themself, and they power through it, they want to surprise Zuko.

They get to the theater an hour early and they manage to get in through the backdoor easily enough, after all Aang knows someone in about every dance academy or school in town and they know how to turn on the charm just right so they’re let into the dressing rooms. They search through what feels like unending rooms and identical hallways for what feels like forever, feeling their anxiety gradually rise through their body. It’s okay though, Aang has always dealt with their anxiety by smiling harder and putting a stronger bounce in their step, so they keep going. They’ll see Zuko soon enough.

Finally, after peering into a couple dozens of rooms and apologizing for it, they find one of the faces they were looking for. Even if she wasn’t in the background of nearly every single post on Zuko’s instagram, Aang thinks they would have recognized her immediately. There’s the same dark hair, the same unusual gold irises, the same sharp eyes, she’s beautiful, obviously. Zuko is nowhere to be seen but Aang knows he’ll be around soon, he and Azula _always_ compete together after all. Besides, they’ve got more pressing matters at hand, like the fact that their boyfriend’s sister is very obviously trying not to cry. 

“Hey! Are you okay?” She looks up and her gaze turns metallic and cold.

“Who are you?” There’s a tightness in their chest, for a moment they wonder why Zuko hasn’t told his sister about them. They chide themself, maybe he has, maybe he hasn’t, Zuko must have his reasons either way, Aang doesn’t even know if he’s _out_ to his family, it’s none of their business either away.

“You’re Azula, right? I’m Aang, I’m friends with Zuko…” There’s an unimpressed curve to her perfect eyebrow. “And Ty Lee!” Her eyes go soft just a little bit. That’s another similarity between the siblings, they think they’re good at masking their emotions when actually their eyes make open books out of their faces. “Not to be redundant but, um, are you okay? Really?”

Azula frowns a little bit and gazes at the table in front of her, filled to the brim with makeup, she sighs.

“I’m only telling you because I’m desperate, okay?” They nod fast. “I don’t know how to stage makeup.” Aang’s ashamed to admit that they splutter in surprise, but it’s weird okay? Dancers normally learn how to do stage makeup as tweens and the girl in front of him is wearing perfect eyeliner and red lipstick, her not knowing how to do her stage makeup seems impossible. She grits her teeth. “Don’t look at me like that!” She looks down at her hands. “Usually my brother does it for me and as you can see, he’s not here.” 

_That_ makes more sense. Aang knows many siblings or best friends in dance who have rituals like these, doing each other’s make up, tucking each other ribbons in, they themself usually do Katara’s hair when she needs it. But still, it seems a little crazy not to at least _learn_ how to do it.

Aang thanks the g-ddess there’s two chairs in the room as they sit in front of Azula. 

“I can help you with it if you want!” Azula stares at them like they’ve grown a second head.

“What? No! I can figure it out myself! I’ll just watch a tutorial or something.” Zuko has described Azula to Aang hundreds of times but the cold, steely Azula they had pictured is nothing like the real Azula in front of her. She’s prideful, obviously, but there’s an edge of youth and anxiety to her sharpness. 

“Hey, I was just offering, you can totally say no, but I’ve done a ton of stage makeup before. I’d be done in twenty minutes tops.” They’re not lying either, after years of helping out Toph they’ve gotten pretty good at putting makeup on other people. Azula throws a weary glance at the heaps of makeup and it speaks to her desperation that she only hesitates briefly.

“Fine. I’m doing Odile today so a basic ass smokey eye is fine.” Odile, huh? It fits her, they think, but they also wonder how she would look in Odette’s role. They work quickly and efficiently, their few attempts at conversation getting shot down with curt, one-word answers.

Until.

“So why isn’t Zuko here to help you today? Seems kind of weird that he’s abandon you to fend for yourself.” Her muscles twitch like she wants to frown but thinks better of it when she feels the makeup brush against her skin.

“You must not be very close with him if he hasn’t told you.” Aang quirks an eyebrow, they’d like to think they’re pretty close with their own boyfriend.

“Told me what?”

“That he’s being a whiny little bitch and throwing a tantrum.” There’s cold dread in Aang’s stomach, a little voice telling him to stop digging.

“What do you mean?” Azula lets out a loud sigh of annoyance.

“Apparently he dropped some girl in practice and she got hurt so now he’s decided he wants to quit dance.” Aang’s grip on the brush stutters but Azula doesn’t notice. “So now I’m stuck doing solos because of course nobody else in the academy is up to my level. Not that I mind doing solos of course. But I thought-” Aang wants to cut her off, it’s obvious that in normal circumstances she would never tell them anything like this, but they don’t and she keeps talking. “He’s my brother, you know? I thought this was something we did together. Obviously not.” She laughs but it’s harsh and coated in bitterness. Aang wills themself to calm down. “It’s not like I got into dance because of him or anything, it’s not like-”

This time they do cut her off.

“All done!” Any other time, Aang would have pretended to keep going until she had unloaded all of what she has to say, it’s obvious she’s bursting at the seams with emotion and anger and something that looks awfully like betrayal. But Aang’s feeling the sting of betrayal themself. They need to talk to Zuko.

Azula inspects her face in the mirror, and gives them a sharp nod.

“It’ll do. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to start warming up so…” Aang knows a dismissal when they see it and now they’re grateful for it. They scramble out of the room, without a goodbye, grabbing their phone out of their pocket and immediately dropping it.

The screen doesn’t exactly shatter but now there’s a deep crack running through it.

They call Zuko and groan when he doesn’t answer.

“come to my house asap. we need to talk.” It’s probably cruel, to leave Zuko those messages and then silence their phone so they don’t see any notifications, but they don’t even think about that, his head filled with ‘why didn’t he tell me’s.

They both get to Aang’s place at nearly the exact same time and they’re both quiet as they climb the stars to Aang’s room.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were quitting dance?”

“Wh- How did you find out about that.” And Aang should probably tell him everything, that they wanted to surprise him at his next competition and yet only Azula was there, but the only they want right now is answers.

“Doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell me you were quitting dance.” Zuko puts a hand on their shoulder but they shrug it off and stand up from the bed.

“Aang…”

“Tell me Zuko!”

“Because I knew you’d be upset like this.” Aang gapes.

“Of course I’m upset! You’re quitting dance, why would you ever quit dance?” Zuko stands up too.

“Because of you! Look at what I did to you, I’m not good enough for this industry.”

“Bullshit.” Aang trembles but they don’t know if it’s anger or panic or something else.

“Look you don’t know how it feels, Aang! You and Azula are the same, perfect little prodigies who don’t even have to work for it.” They ignore the jab at them.

“You’re a good dancer Zuko.”

“No I’m not, and *that*” he points at Aang’s hurt ankle. “is proof enough. I hurt you, Aang.”

“So what? You said it yourself! One mistake shouldn’t stop you from doing what you love.”

“But it’s _not_ one mistake, Aang! It’s one mistake after another, after another. I’m just a bad dancer and I think it’s time we both admit that.” Zuko keeps shrinking into himself and Aang hates it, he wants to hold him, but he’s also so angry.

“You’re not a bad dancer, Zuko. You’re just a coward.”

“What?”

“You heard me! You’re afraid of not being good enough? Well you won’t ever be if you don’t even try.”

“What do you know about trying? All I ever do is try, Aang!! All my fucking life I’ve been trying but it’s clear that’s not enough. I’m not you, I’m not my sister, I’ve actually had to work for what I had but that got me nowhere.” Aang feels both cold and like they’re on fire, their fists are so tight, they can feel their nails digging into their palms.

“So that’s it? You take my career away from me and then you throw yours away like it’s nothing?” They know as soon as they say it that they’ve gone too far, but the apologies stick to their tongue.

“You know what? I don’t have to take this. Goodbye Aang.” 

There’s no slammed door, no stomping feet when Zuko leaves, just emptiness.

Aang drops to their knees and their sobs come out just as quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you catch the prompt word in this mess of a chapter?


End file.
